


The Lucky Tux

by lixabiz



Series: Clothing Optional [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Tentoo Getting Lucky, Tentoo Has An Epiphany, The Unlucky Tux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2663054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lixabiz/pseuds/lixabiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor has a fear of Tuxedos. Rose helps him deal with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lucky Tux

1.  
  
"This is a Bad Idea," he intoned grimly. "Capital letters bad."  
  
"You can’t back out now," said Rose, gaping at him. "Mum’s going to kill you."  
  
"I’ll take my chances. Trust me, if I walk out that door looking like this…"  
  
"What’s wrong with how you look? I think you look great!"  
  
The Doctor paused for a moment, torn between the urge to preen and the more pressing debacle at hand: making Rose realise what a horrendous mistake they were about to commit. He understood that she had missed a few events during the years they had been parted from one another, but surely she remembered what happened the _last_ time he’d been in this universe, wearing an almost identical outfit?  
  
"That’s… you think so?" Pride won out. "Bit tight in the leg, don’t you reckon?"  
  
Rose tilted her head, bending to check him out from behind. Saucy minx. “Nope. Perfection.”  
  
He fought the urge to grin and modulated his voice to convey the Seriousness Of The Situation to her. “I’m serious, Rose. Nothing good ever happens when I wear a tuxedo. It’s like a curse.”  
  
"Riiiight," said Rose.  
  
"If you don’t let me turn around and go back upstairs and put on my usual suit, something terrible will happen at Jackie’s birthday party."  
  
She looked at him, disbelievingly. “What?”  
  
"I’m talking life and death struggles. Mutants. Sinking the unsinkable." He added, with emphasis, " _Cybermen._ And the blame will fall squarely on your shoulders, because I’m warning you right now-“  
  
Outside, a car horn honked loudly, blasting a devastating interruption through the Doctor’s vehement admonition.  
  
"C’mon, Doctor," said Rose, grabbing his arm and dragging him through the door, "Our ride is here."  
  
Several hours later, at the height of the party, Rose caught up to him as he slunk about the edges of the room, hyper-vigilant, the lone guardian against an impending onslaught of terror and certain doom.  
  
"Are you ever going to relax?" she demanded. "Nothing is going to happen."  
  
"Easy for you to say," he muttered darkly.  
  
"Is this Donna? Was she this superstitious?"  
  
He began to contradict the implication, but shrugged instead. “Maybe,” he admitted begrudgingly. “It’s really quite annoying, actually. I just can’t seem to relax.”  
  
Rose looked at him, her siren-red mouth thoughtfully pursed. Finally, she linked her fingers with his and led him through the doors of the party hall into a cool hallway that led to the back garden.  
  
"Where have you been?" Jackie demanded upon their return. "To think I’ve already cut the cake, and my only daughter and her…. _you_ , not there! It’s not every day a woman turns forty-five, you know!”  
  
The Doctor rubbed at a scratch on the back of his neck and avoided Jackie’s indignant glare. Those hedges had been rather prickly, and it had been a bit cold towards the end. After, of course, he hadn’t noticed _during_ , in fact he’d been a bit overheated throughout, really - but oh, best not to be thinking about that when there were so many people around, or there would be some embarrassment to be had. His trousers were pretty tight, after all.  
  
Rose was very deliberately not looking at him. “Sorry, mum.”  
  
"What happened to your lipstick?" Jackie frowned. She looked at the Doctor. "Where’s your bow? And what’s that in your hair, a twig?"  
  
"Nibbles!" the Doctor exclaimed, spinning on his heel to follow a passing tray of hors d'oeuvre and disappearing into the melee of party-goers in the blink of an eye.  
  
  
  
2.  
  
The Doctor straightened his bow-tie, his mouth a grim line above it in the full-length mirror of their bedroom. A sense of doom overcame him and his head was filled with sudden visions of explosions and Jackie angrily berating him for ruining her wedding anniversary party.  
  
"Just what we need," he said darkly, eyeing his brand new tuxedo. "Double the odds of disaster and mayhem."  
  
"Well, if you hadn’t jumped into that vat of acidic alien goo-"  
  
"It’s nothing Pete’s dry cleaner hasn’t seen before."  
  
"I like this one."  
  
"You said that about the last one, too. And the one before that. And the one before _that_ -“  
  
"Give us a spin, then," she said, twirling her finger in the air. "Go on."  
  
He obliged, turning slowly for her benefit, trying his best to keep his expression suitably solemn.  
  
Rose looked him up and down. And then down and up. The corner of her mouth lifted and she walked over to him to wrap both her arms around his neck. “Gorgeous.”  
  
No, his cheeks weren’t going pink. It was just hot in the room and the new tuxedo he was wearing was made of such thick, heavy material. He wasn’t blushing because of Rose’s approval and he certainly didn’t feel giddy inside because she’d called him gorgeous. And it absolutely had nothing to do with the way Rose’s tongue darted out to lick her lips, or the way her hips pressed against his as he circled her waist with his own arms. No, not at all.  
  
"I’m still not sure this is a Good Idea," he began to say, but Rose leapt on his momentary lapse of concentration and cut him off entirely. More specifically, she grabbed him by his collar, wrapped herself around him and wrangled him onto the bed.  
  
Under. He was under. This was new. Distracted by her wandering hands, he forgot what he was about and let her have her wicked way with him.  
  
Looking back, he had to admit he hadn’t tried to resist very hard, or at all, but Rose was quite a bit stronger than she looked. Much more resilient and physical and intrepid and flexible and - er, _bendy_ , yes, bendy was the word - than he’d realised.  
  
"We’re late," he managed to croak, afterwards, still trying to figure out who had won and who had lost. He’d managed to wait, managed to let her go first, that had to count, right? Right?  
  
"Told mum we’d get there by 9," said Rose sleepily, snuggling up into his side, her eyes closed. "Plenty of time."  
  
"You planned this," he muttered.  
  
"Yep."  
  
  
  
3.  
  
There was something to be said for private Opera boxes, the Doctor thought with newfound appreciation for excessively rich people and their hoity-toity ways. He let his head drop onto Rose’s shoulder and shuddered as lingering bolts of pleasure coursed down his spine.  
  
He sighed into the lovely patch of skin at the back of her neck, the tickle of his breath making her giggle. It was infectious, and the Doctor laughed, too, even as he tried to catch his breath. He really ought to move, he was crushing her against the wall, but his legs felt boneless and without the support of Rose and the wall he’d have trouble staying vertical.  
  
A ruckus, complete with screaming and shouting, broke out suddenly from the stage below, piercing the Doctor’s cloud of euphoric bliss.  
  
He lifted his head. “Huh?”  
  
"Blimey," said Rose, shifting out from under him and dragging her dress back down over her perfect bottom. "You were right. The lead singer _is_ an alien.”  
  
"I knew it," he sighed, pulling up his trousers. "Cursed."  
  
  
  
4.  
  
The only escape was the Great Outdoors.  
  
Outdoors, where there was fresh air and adventure and freedom from the chafing niceties of charity dinners hosted by one of Pete’s business partners. Outdoors, where he didn’t have to watch Rose networking with an endless parade of vapid blokes. Vapid blokes in dinner jackets which he suspected were not cursed like his own.  
  
"It’s a dog," Rose said flatly, clearly not amused at having been dragged outside in the middle of a conversation with an overly-friendly idiot.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yeah," she said, lifting the little animal up around the belly and giving it a scratch. "Pretty sure this is a puppy."  
  
The Doctor held up his sonic.  
  
Rose pulled the puppy away. “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s got a name-tag and everything. Haven’t you, Ava?” The puppy squirmed and barked, basking in the attention. “Aww. She must belong to the Williams’es kids. Good thing you found her, Doctor. She must’ve escaped from the house when guests arrived. Clever, precious thing.”  
  
"We can’t be sure without checking," the Doctor said, pressing a notch that made the sonic screwdriver light up.  
  
"You’ve got to be joking," Rose said, clutching the puppy to her chest. Lucky dog. "Stop it, you’re scaring her! Put it away!"  
  
In the scuffle that ensued there was a lot of barking, biting, cursing, shouting, and an accidental kick to the shins. It was confirmed that Ava was indeed the Williams’es newly adopted puppy, only a few months old, and that she was not quite yet housetrained.  
  
Rose snickered all the way back inside, where an emotionless member of the catering staff showed the Doctor to a small powder room complete with sink and loo. His dinner jacket was taken away to be laundered, immediately, by a maid.  
  
The Doctor shot Rose a look that clearly said, _I told you so_ and bitterly recalled his futile struggle earlier that evening to avoid donning the Cursed Tuxedo.  
  
"Look at that face," said Rose, sitting on the edge of the sink as the Doctor sulked on the lowered toilet seat. "It’s going to get stuck that way, if you don’t stop pouting."  
  
"Don’t be ridiculous. Permanent facial paralysis is highly unlikely and even if it were to occur, my facial muscles would collapse, not freeze. It would be like living with a-"  
  
"You’d find a way to talk," said Rose, slipping to her feet and plopping herself onto his lap. "Your tongue would still work, yeah?"  
  
They established, that yes, in fact, his tongue would still work. Spectacularly, if the Doctor did say so himself. Which he did. And often.  
  
  
  
5.  
  
They scrambled into the minivan parked outside as the Doctor tried to recall how to breathe properly. He was sure he’d known how to do it before, even without having a respiratory bypass like he used to, but he was finding it difficult to think clear thoughts about anything at that particular moment. Endorphins and oxytocin were flooding his brain, making him sluggish and high-strung at the same time.  
  
Rose kicked off her heels and flopped back onto the car seat, her face flushed and her skin fetchingly damp with a sheen of sweat. The Doctor felt similar to how she looked - like he’d just put out a fire with every cell in his body.  
  
Pete was frowning in the driver’s seat. Never a good sign. “What took you so long? I had to send Jake ahead, or we’d have lost the trail entirely!”  
  
Discreetly, Rose bent and fixed her left stocking, which had slid all the way down to the middle of her calf. “Sorry, Dad. There was suspicious activity in the, uh, the…”  
  
"The kitchens!" the Doctor blurted with an emphatic nod of his head. Surreptitiously, he adjusted the jacket he had thrown on haphazardly just minutes prior. "Very, very high probability of alien activity in the kitchens. Didn’t quite get the chance to check thoroughly, you might want to send someone back later to do a full sweep of the area."  
  
"Okay," said Pete, but he didn’t sound convinced. He started the motor and began to drive away into the foggy evening, filling them in on Jake’s latest discovery.  
  
"Body-snatchers," he confirmed.  
  
"I knew it," the Doctor exclaimed, shooting Rose a quick, victorious, sideways glance. "See, Rose? I told you it would be body-snatchers! Each time I wear this tux, something bad happens. It’s extremely unlucky. We ought to burn it."  
  
"I don’t know," said Rose breezily, "I think you get very lucky in this tux."  
  
Heat rose to his cheeks, and despite every instinct in his body clamouring and telling him not to, the Doctor looked into the rear-view mirror and met Pete Tyler’s gaze.  
  
"BABY DEER!" he shouted suddenly, pointing at the windshield.  
  
The car jerked to an abrupt, jarring stop. Rose gasped, her head hitting the back of her seat, and the Doctor narrowly avoided smashing his nose into the head-rest of the seat in front of him.  
  
"I don’t see anything," said Rose, perplexed, rolling down her window. Pete scanned the trees on his right, brow furrowed in confusion. "There’s nothing on the road."  
  
"Sorry, sorry, my mistake."  
  
  
  
6.  
  
"I’ve been thinking," said the Doctor.  
  
"Yeah?" said Rose.  
  
"My irrational belief that tuxedos are harbingers of doom and destruction is clouding my better judgement."  
  
"Hmm."  
  
"I need to rewire this brain, disassociate the concept of misfortune with tuxedos by forming a new association for them. Simple fear management psychology. Positive reinforcement. Link them with good memories, great ones. Endorphin infused memories."

"I see."

“ _Do you_?”  
  
"Uh huh. You’re saying that every time you put on this outfit we have to shag."  
  
"Yes," he said, enthused that she was getting his point.

It was not difficult to get, he mused, not when his point was literally, ahm, poking at her. 

Afterwards, _afterwards_ , he turned to look at her, and the self-satisfied gleam in her eyes made him wonder if perhaps he wasn’t the one finally getting the point.  
  
  
  
(6.5.  
  
Upon coming to this monumental realization, the Doctor discovered that there was an upcoming dearth of parties in his life. Typical.)  
  
  
  
7.  
  
He said, earnestly, “I thought I saw a moth, in the hallway. It might have been an infestation. I just bought that new coat, and I know how fond you are of that cashmere jumper you got for Christmas last year, so I thought I’d better make sure.”  
  
Rose said, her eyebrow raised, “Still doesn’t explain why you’re wearing _that_.”  
  
"There wasn’t anything to hang it on! I didn’t want it to get wrinkled! I had to resonate the hangers to make sure there weren’t any larvae or moth eggs hiding in the nooks and crannies." He gave her his best ‘now-for-the-science!’ Look, the one that was best supported by his brainy specs, which were unfortunately lost to another dimension.  
  
Rose crossed her arms over her chest and took several steps towards him.  
  
He babbled harder. “That’s what we need to watch out for, you know, it’s a common misconception that adult moths eat fabric. Actually, it’s their larvae, half-inch caterpillars that spend their roughly 10-day-long life cycle fattening up on the contents of your closet, that leave those telltale holes. Fortunately I haven’t found any eggs in my wardrobe, or yours, but this linen closet seems potentially rife with-“  
  
He found himself quite unable to speak, at that point, because Rose had found a much better task for his mouth. Namely, kissing, which led to cuddling, which led to several memorable hours that were permanently embedded into his subconscious. For a long time to come, the scent of lavender sachets and clean linens invoked certain, ahem, bodily reactions from him that were unfortunately not well received in public situations.  
  
"Did you really see a moth?"  
  
"Might have done," he panted, clutching her hand where it lay pressed to his racing heart. "Can’t remember now. What was, what was that thing?"  
  
"What thing?"  
  
"The thing, the thing you did with the, uh, you know."  
  
"Oh," Rose said drowsily, "That. Did you like it?"  
  
"Oh yes."  
  
  
  
8.  
  
Toshiko looked at him in amazement, and - not to sound arrogant but it had to be said - with a fair bit of admiration. There was no denying that he cut a fine figure in well-tailored clothing and nothing flattered him more than a colour-scheme of black and white.  
  
This dimension’s version of Owen Harper snorted. “Where are you heading after work? Sixth Form Summer Formal?”  
  
"I ran out of clean laundry," the Doctor sniffed. He looked around the Torchwood office, seeking out a familiar head of blonde hair, but found nothing of the sort.  
  
"She’s in the lab," said Tosh, smiling slightly.  
  
"Thanks," said the Doctor, winking at her. Tosh blushed, and turned away. Owen rolled his eyes.  
  
Rose was indeed in the lab. She burst out laughing when she saw him, which was very rude, actually, but he was able to forgive her due to his magnanimous spirit and the very special, very memorable way in which she proceeded to make it up to him.  
  
Blimey, lab floors were cold.  
  
  
  
9.  
  
He might have made a slight tactical error at the next party.  
  
"Where’s Rose?" he asked, wandering over to the picnic tables where several small guests were currently experimenting with creating works of art.  
  
Jackie looked up at him, over Tony’s little head, her eyebrow raised. “Bit over-dressed, aren’t you?”  
  
He clapped himself on the back, inwardly, for his extremely well-honed control of his very tricky half-human body. He didn’t bat a lash.  
  
"The message said party. Your last three parties have all been black-tie events. How was I supposed to know?"  
  
"I’m quite certain I said finger paints would be involved. Most people wouldn’t come to a children’s party wearing their best tux."  
  
The Doctor ignored her. “Tony! Let me see your masterpiece!”  
  
Approximately an hour later, the Doctor found himself sprawled on the lawn, assisting-slash-leading Tony and a group of his Nursery school mates in the task of producing the world’s biggest finger painting on a king-sized bed sheet that someone had procured from the mansion.  
  
"Hello," said a voice from behind him. "Wow."  
  
"Rose!" He got to his feet, brushing grass and leaves and flecks of dried paint off his trousers. He beamed, a giddy rush suddenly coming over him, and hurried towards her, the love of his life, his Goddess, his Dryad, his Rose-  
  
"Nice try," she said, looking him up and down. "Not gonna happen." She tilted her head meaningfully at her mother and brother.  
  
 _"I know,_ " he said, tilting his head in the opposite direction. Towards the acres of gardens behind the house. Towards the greenhouse. The one on the other side of the property. The one that had locks that were highly conducive to resonating.    
  
  
10.  
  
The Doctor congratulated himself on his quick thinking and plucked a tulip bulb away from parts of his anatomy he was sure they shouldn’t be poking out of. He eyed his now decidedly wrinkled jacket. Again: nothing Pete’s dry cleaner couldn’t handle.  
  
"This is a lucky tux now," hummed the Doctor, extremely pleased with himself.  
  
"I’ll say," said Rose.


End file.
